


Walls Come Tumbling Down

by Anonymous



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Dean as Finnick, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, On Hiatus, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:41:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23567752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: District Four's tributes for the 65th Hunger Games are Dean Winchester and Jo Harvelle.Sam doesn't care about Dean's publicity stunt with Cas, and he doesn't care who has to die.He just wants his brother to come back alive.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 12
Kudos: 22
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, uh. I guess this is what happens when I'm left unattended and under even more stress than usual? Here we go!  
> I'll try to do updates every week but life is kind of unpredictable right now, so we'll see. Feel free to ask if I take too long. Title from "Everybody Wants to Rule the World" by Lorde.  
> Thanks for reading, hope you like it, and I love kudos/comments! :)

_The thing is_ , Sam thinks, stepping forward on shaking legs, _Dean was the one who put in his name for the food._

(Sam offered, begged, and argued, but Dean held firm. 

“Let me be the one to take the risks, ‘kay, Sammy?” Dean asked, his half-grin a rictus. “Only got one more year to do it, anyway.”

Sam gave in, because he never could stand that smile.)

It was supposed to be Dean.

Sam’s almost glad it’s not.

Dean can live without him. Sam doesn’t think he can live without Dean.

For a blissfully numb moment, Sam’s resigned to his death.

Then--

“I volunteer,” Dean yells, shoving Sam out of the way hard. “I volunteer as tribute.”

Cas catches Sam before he can fall over. And, when Sam tries to get to Dean, Cas’ arms tighten around him like steel bands. 

“Oh,” Effie Trinket coos. “How noble.”

Sam snarls wordlessly at her and redoubles his efforts to break free. Cas huffs in pain when one of Sam’s elbows smashes into his stomach, but he doesn’t let go. 

“What’s your name, dear?” Effie asks Dean, and all Sam wants to do is rip her throat out with his teeth.

“Dean,” Sam’s brother says. His eyes are locked on Sam. “Dean Winchester.”

“Well--” Effie starts. Dean cuts her off. 

“Remember the name,” he tells the camera. He winks at Effie.

Effie titters. “Oh, my. Well, Dean, we’re all looking forward to seeing you on screen.” Then, addressing the assembled crowd, “May the odds be ever in your favor!”

The girl who was reaped-- Jo Harvelle, Sam thinks her name is-- looks like she’s about to pass out as she and Dean are led away. Sam can’t blame her. Behind Jo, Dean strides offstage like he’s following Cas down the pier, all casual confidence.

Once they’re out of sight, Cas lets go of Sam. Sam doesn’t think he could stand on his own right now, though, so he keeps leaning on Cas. Now that his adrenaline is ebbing, he can feel Cas shaking.

“We should go to the Governor’s house,” Sam says after he remembers. 

“Yes.” Cas scrubs a hand over his face, nods, and starts walking. 

Sam follows. He does his best to ignore the panic rising in his throat and wonders if Dad, wherever he is, knows what Dean just did.

When they get there, Dean’s in a chair and fiddling with the amulet Sam gave him. 

“Hey,” Sam chokes out.

Dean sweeps him into his arms. Sam clings to his brother with all his strength, buries his face in Dean’s leather jacket, and whispers, “You’re gonna win, right?”

Dean squeezes Sam once before letting go. He ruffles Sam’s hair. 

“Course I will.” Dean’s smile is the one that means he’s about to do something he thinks is necessary but something Sam will hate. Usually, Sam hates that smile. Right now it makes him fiercely glad. He doesn’t give a damn if Dean has to kill every other tribute. He just needs him to come home.

“Good,” Sam says. “Good.”

There’s not much else Sam has to say. Dean says, “Cas. Take care of him for me, okay?”

“I’m right here,” Sam complains. 

Dean grins like he’s not a condemned man and says, “Gotta watch out for you. Bitch.”

“Jerk.” It’s instinctive. Even if it hurts like Hell.

“Yes, Dean,” Cas says. “You know you don’t need to ask.” He sounds offended.

“I know.” Dean meets Cas’ eyes. Sam shifts uncomfortably. “But I wanted to hear it.”

The eye contact intensifies. Sam is almost relieved-- before the implications sink in-- when one of the Peacekeepers interrupts them. 

“Time to go, Winchester.”

“Okay. Just-- just one sec.”

The guard folds his arms but doesn’t argue. 

Dean pulls Cas into a hug. Cas whispers something in his ear and Dean nods. Sam looks away.

“Winchester,” the guard warns. 

“Fine,” Dean snaps. He lets go of Cas, shrugs out of his leather jacket and hands it to Sam. 

He doesn’t fight as the Peacekeepers surround him. He doesn’t look back.

After a moment, Cas suggests they go home. Sam doesn’t ask where _home_ is, just follows his friend. 

Home is Dean. But Cas’ house will have to do until he gets back. 

Cas’ parents aren’t ever around-- one reason he and the Winchesters get along so well-- so his older brother Gabriel is the only one there when Cas and Sam arrive. Gabriel opens the door for them.

“Where’s Dean?” Gabriel asks, eyes flicking between his brother and Sam. 

Sam shakes his head and pushes past Gabriel into the house. He hears Cas’ voice break saying Dean’s name and climbs the stairs to the guest bedroom two at a time.

Sam closes the door of the room behind him. It’s Cas’ parents’ bedroom, technically, but they haven’t been to District Four in years, so it’s just Sam and Dean’s now. 

He collapses on the bed and stares at the ceiling. The comfort of the bed feels like a betrayal, knowing where his brother is. He and Dean have spent more nights here than at their house, sleeping back-to-back with their hands curled around the knives beneath their pillows. When Sam was just a kid, they came here when Dad was drunker than usual, sneaking in through Cas’ window. After Dad left for the last time, Dean brought Sam here, and they stayed for a week straight. 

After that, the Novak’s house was what Sam thought of as “home”, even if most of his and Dean’s stuff was still at the house John left them. 

Sam stares at the ceiling and wonders if this is the closest to his brother he’ll ever be again.

When the Capital broadcasts the results of the Reaping that night, District Four gets more attention than usual.

Cas breaks a plate when they show Dean. Gabriel keeps up a steady stream of chatter as he sweeps up the pieces. Sam goes back upstairs after forcing himself to eat. Cas’ worried look bores into his back, but he ignores his friend.

Sam’s going to keep going for Dean, and Cas can make him eat, but neither of them can make the emptiness eating at him go away. 

School is terrible. Sam walks out after someone asks him how it feels to know his brother’s going to die.

He goes hunting. The forest in District Four isn’t very large, but they’re right against the border with District Five, so there’s enough. 

Dad had to pawn their guns a while back, but bows can be deadly in the right hands too. Sam’s more than capable of killing things with a bow. He’s not as good as Dean-- no one is, he’s _Dean_ \-- but he’s pretty good. 

Cas may be supposed to take care of him, but Dean taught him how to take care of himself.

He brings back a rabbit. Gabriel, his hair crusted with sea salt, promises to skin it for him. 

Dean’s spot at the table draws Sam’s attention like a magnet.

The Tribute Parade takes place the next day. Since the “celebrations” have officially begun, school is closed, and Sam has nothing to distract himself from the coverage. Even if he’d been planning on skipping anyway.

(Even if there was anything else to do, he could never tear himself away from the chance of seeing Dean, no matter how briefly.)

Gabriel is off work until the Games end, like every other fisher in District Four. The only outward signs of his stress are the shadows under his eyes. Sam chews on his lip and wonders how much he could get for another few rabbits. He’s only got a few days until the Games officially start, and he might need some extra cash. The Novaks might have a nicer house than the Winchesters do, but they don’t have much to spare. Especially with Sam living with them.

Gabriel decides Cas isn’t allowed to hold fragile things while watching TV after another bowl meets a violent end. In Cas’ defense, Sam would have broken anything he was holding, too. The announcer’s comments about Dean are… Well. Explicit. They make Sam nauseous. 

Seeing Dean decked out like a sea god almost makes Sam forget the comments, though. Dean looks… alive. Fierce. Like he’s coming back to Sam.

The amulet is still around his neck. 

Sam cries into the pillow that still smells like Dean that night.

Dean gets a ranking of an eight. Sam bites his lip and wonders if that’s a good thing. Jo gets a six. None of the coverage on District Four is focused on her anyway. All anyone wants to talk about is Dean. 

They watch Flickerman’s interview. Dean strides on stage in a black tuxedo with a sea-green shirt. Gabriel takes a long sip of whiskey and says, “Guys. Breathe.”

Sam inhales sharply. Until Gabriel mentioned it, he hadn’t realized he wasn’t breathing.

Gabriel doesn’t comment. 

“So, Dean,” Flickerman says, “Why are you here?”

“‘Cause how could I turn down an opportunity to see all of this?” Dean chuckles a little, gestures around the room. “We watch your show all the time, you know.” 

Flickerman beams. “Really? I’m flattered… But I meant to ask why you’re a tribute.”

Dean leans back in his chair and crosses his legs. He looks completely at ease. 

Sam knows better. No one outside of this room does, though.

“My brother’s name was drawn,” Dean says. “It’s my job to take care of him. I wasn’t gonna let him go.”

The crowd murmurs with sympathy. The camera sweeps across the front row. Every face it shows is heavily made-up and emotional. 

Sam can hear Cas’ teeth grinding together.

“How touching.” Caesar’s teeth glint in the stage lights. “If your brother could talk to you right now, what would he say?”

“He’d probably call me a jerk, to be honest.” The crowd laughs. Dean smiles back at them. “But honestly, Caesar? He’d probably say the same thing he did the last time he saw me.”

“And what was that?” Flickerman leans in, his eyes glittering. 

“He told me to win.”

The crowd _oohs._

“And are you going to?”

“Yes.” Dean stares straight into the camera. “Hear that, Sammy? I’m gonna win. For you. I’m coming back.”

Sam isn’t stupid enough not to realize this is a ploy for sympathy and popularity. But Dean’s eyes are dead serious. 

Something inside of Sam settles.

The crowd is dead silent for several seconds. Then Caesar exhales shakily and raises a hand to his lips.

“I rather believe you will, Dean.”

The audience bursts into applause.

“He knows how to play them,” Gabriel mutters. “He’s good.”

“He’s Dean,” Cas says, like it explains everything. It kind of does.

“Just one last question, Dean,” Flickerman says. “We simply have to know. Are you seeing anyone? A face like yours, I doubt you aren’t.”

Sam expects Dean to brush the question off with a comment about keeping himself available. Instead, Dean ducks his head a little, flushing. 

“I’m… not exactly in a relationship.”

“Oh, you have to tell us now. Don’t leave us hanging!”

Dean looks up through his lashes in a way that makes Flickerman’s smile widen in anticipation.

“I’ve been in love with someone for a long time, but… we’re not together.”

The crowd leans forward. 

“Why in the world not? No girl in their right mind would turn you down. What’s her name?”

Sam’s not sure if this is an act, and that bothers him more than it probably should.

Dean bites his lip. That, at least, Sam knows is fake. Dean doesn’t have tells. Dad trained it out of him. 

“Well, uh, he’s not a girl.”

Sam’s eyebrows raise to his hairline.

“Oh,” Flickerman breathes hungrily. “Oh, I see. So sorry to have assumed. What’s _his_ name?”

“Cas,” Dean says. “His name’s Cas.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for implied/discussed rape. Because Dean's more or less taking Finnick's place in this 'verse, that will be a running content theme. Please feel free to ask if you'd like more information.

Nobody speaks. When Dean’s walking offstage, Cas stands up and walks out of the house. Gabriel opens his mouth to call after his brother, hesitates, and closes it again.

“He just needs time,” he says. Sam’s not sure if Gabriel’s talking to himself or Sam. “He’ll go for a swim or something and be back before too long. If not, I’ll just--”

“Do you think Dean was telling the truth?” Sam blurts out. 

Gabriel sighs. He looks older than usual, his facade of cheerful nonchalance gone for the moment. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. And I think the feeling goes both ways.”

It’s hard for Sam to believe that his brother would keep something like this from him. But thinking about how Dean talks about Cas, how Dean looks at Cas-- Sam’s pretty sure Gabriel’s right.

He’s been so oblivious.

“Well, that sucks,” Sam says.

Gabriel snorts and gets up to refill his glass. “Yeah. Yeah, it does.”

Cas comes back just before Sam and Gabriel get worried enough to look for him. He’s soaking wet and goes to his room without a word. 

“I’ll talk to him,” Gabriel says. “Yell if Dean shows up.”

Sam nods. The interviewers are on District Ten right now and he’s pretty sure both of these poor kids are going to die. 

Nothing out of the ordinary.

Cas and Gabriel come downstairs during the female tribute from District Eleven’s interview. 

“She’s going to die,” Cas says. He’s shivering.

“Probably.” Sam tosses one of the rough blankets on his chair at his friend’s head. “If you get hypothermia, I’m going to laugh at you.”

“I won’t get hypothermia. It’s summer.” 

“You might,” Gabriel says. 

Cas drops the blanket on his brother’s head and almost smiles at the subsequent explosion of curses. 

Sam turns away to hide his own small smile. 

Dean is popular. He takes full advantage of it, flirting with every interviewer who comes near and angling for photographs with uncanny skill. Sam guesses his brother’s mentor-- an older man named Bobby, if he remembers correctly-- is good at what he does. A quarter of all the pre-Games sponsorships are for Dean, and all of the news figureheads predict there will be much more if he survives the first few days.

Sam’s glad about that until he overhears part of Gabriel’s conversation with Cas from the top of the stairs.

(“You know what they do to attractive Victors, Gabe,” Cas hisses, his hair standing up in ragged spikes. “You know what they’re going to do to him. They’re already lining up for a chance to--”

“It doesn’t help to worry about that,” Gabriel says. He sounds exhausted, and Sam feels a pang of guilt. It must be taking a lot out of Gabriel to keep up his usual chatter under the circumstances. “Dean’s going to survive, and he’s going to come out of it with some new scars, but he’s gonna come out of it alive, okay? And if anyone tries to-- to take him to bed--”

“Just say fuck, Gabe,” Cas spits. “When they fuck him--”

“Don’t,” Gabriel says lowly. “Don’t do that to yourself.”

Cas stops talking, lets out a broken noise that might be an attempt at Gabe’s name. Sam realizes with a start that Cas--stoic, quiet, never-back-down Cas-- is crying.

“Oh, Cassie,” Gabriel says, pulling his brother into a hug. 

He doesn’t say anything else, just repeats Cas’ name over and over like a prayer.

Sam slips back into his room and closes his door quietly. 

His eyes are burning.)

None of them really manage to sleep the night before the Games start. Sam doesn’t even bother trying, just stays curled up in the battered chair in front of the TV. 

Gabriel comes down around midnight. His face is set and hard in a way Sam hasn’t seen it since the year before Dad left. 

Sam doesn’t like thinking about that year. Then again, it’s better than thinking about the present situation. 

Cas is the last one to take his seat. It’s three in the morning when he walks in with his hair even more tousled than usual and his tired eyes diamond-hard.

Sam hasn’t seen that look on Cas’ face since that year, either. 

When they show Dean standing on his platform, his back to the ocean, Sam sucks in a sharp, wounded breath. 

Dean’s expression is the one he wore the night he took Sam and turned his back on John.

It’s the one he wears when he’s already steeled himself to kill.

_If Dad’s drunk, that’ll make it a perfect reenactment._

“It’s a tropical arena,” Gabriel comments, pulling Sam out of his thoughts. “That’s good. Plays to his strengths.”

Sam nods jerkily. Even by District Four’s standards, Dean’s an excellent swimmer. “If they just give him a net or a trident, he’ll be right at home.”

“Like a fish in water,” Gabriel says. Cas makes a noise like he’s choking on a laugh.

“I’m ashamed of you,” Sam informs Gabriel. “That was terrible.”

Gabriel smiles brightly and opens his mouth, presumably to make another terrible metaphor. He’s prevented from doing so by the start of the countdown. 

_He promised he’d come back_ , Sam reminds himself, even as his fingernails dig into his palms. _And he’s never broken a promise to you. Not one that mattered_.

The gunshot which signals the beginning of the Games splits the air and Dean sprints for the Cornucopia. The camera follows him-- the Districts get to watch their own tributes until they die-- and everything but Dean fades. The announcer’s voices become static; the room becomes irrelevant. All that matters is the events unfolding on screen. 

Dean ignores the smaller prizes scattered around the edges of the Cornucopia. He’s nearly halfway to the center when one of the tributes from District Three tackles him. 

Sam jolts out of his seat, his instinctive urge to _protect_ overriding his common sense. Cas’ hand latches onto Sam’s knee hard enough to bruise, keeping him in his seat.

Dean lands hard, sending sand flying. The tribute from District Three straddles him and raises a small blade.

Sam sees it just before it happens. 

Dean’s hand grasps the hilt of a large knife a few inches from his head and, in one smooth motion, he brings the blade arching up to slice through the girl’s throat. 

Blood spatters across his face but Dean’s already moving. He bucks her slumping body off and scrambles to his feet, keeping the blood-stained knife clenched in his right hand.

“Okay,” Gabriel says, taking a deep breath. “Okay.”

“What is he going for, Sam?” Cas asks, eyes glued to the television. His hand tightens on Sam’s knee. Dean leaps over the corpse of a tribute from District Twelve without missing a step. “Why is he still going forward?”

Sam reluctantly tears his eyes away from his brother long enough to scan the small mound of supplies just around the Cornucopia. What he sees makes his face crack into a vicious smile.

“There’s a set of knives,” he says. “That’s what he’s going for.”

Even for District Four, Dean’s an excellent swimmer. 

And even for a Winchester, Dean’s fantastic with knives.

Dean slips a little in the blood-soaked sand as he skids to a stop, but he doesn’t fall. He takes precious seconds to fashion the holding straps securely around his waist and over his shoulders. He picks up a backpack as well, shoving the large knife inside hurriedly.

 _Good. Now get out of there,_ Sam urges silently. _Go. Run. Get to the water._

But Dean doesn’t run. He slides a knife from the strap around his waist, takes a moment to aim, and throws it in the direction of the Cornucopia. The camera follows the knife's path. 

The knife slams into the chest of one of the tributes from District-- Seven? Seven sounds right to Sam-- and the tribute, carried forward by his own momentum, lands inches from Dean’s feet. 

The kid can’t be more than fifteen.

For the space of a blink, Sam wonders if this might break his brother. Then Dean’s face goes impassive again.

He pulls the knife from the corpse’s chest before running again. 

Dean slips into the water and vanishes with a ripple. 

Behind him, the clash of metal and the screams of the dying continue.

“Well,” Gabriel says as the screen switches to show the carnage at the Cornucopia, “I guess that went okay?”

Sam laughs. If it’s a little hysterical, no one comments. 

“Uh, Cas?” Sam asks after he’s remembered to breathe. “You can let go now. I’m not gonna break the TV.”

“Right.” Cas’ hand leaves Sam’s knee. Sam carefully does not wince. “Sorry.”

They’re eating rice in front of the TV when Cas says, “You know, I really think he’s going to win.”

“Yeah,” Sam says. “Yeah, me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone's wondering what the knife set looks like, I'm picturing something like this: https://m.media-amazon.com/images/S/aplus-media/mg/c4a1a96c-5ded-4b87-82c4-df8de79a3263.jpg  
> Stay safe and have a good week!


	3. Hiatus

Hi guys,

Due to my academic obligations this fic is officially on hiatus. I should be able to come back to it in a month or so, but school is taking up most of my time right now.

Stay safe and be well.


End file.
